PS 3535 
.175 06 
1918 
Copy 1 



he 



4.i00,000 Club Paper 



PLAY FOR CLUB WOMEN 



One-Act Comedy 



By 
BARBARA RING 




Arlington Heights :-: :-: :-: :_: Massachusetts 



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PERSONS REPRESENTED 

Mr. George Barrington, father. 
Mrs. Bertha Barrington, his wife. 
Mary Ann, elder daughter (18). 
Sybil, younger daughter (16). 
John, eleven-year-old son. 
Peter, Mary Ann's lover. 
Rosalind, new colored maid. 
Mrs. de Marr, neighbor. 
Butcher. 



The $100,000 CLUB PAPER 

A ONE-ACT COMEDY 

By Barbara Ring 

Scene: Dining-room. Putty colored walls; blue and 
old-rose chintz draperies in window; rug of blue, old 
rose and ivory; mahogany serving table with candle- 
stick and blue chintz shade at each end, water glasses, 
pitcher and big book in centre, right stage; desk, flat- 
top, with papers and tzco big books and telephone on 
top, down stage left; door, blue chintz screen half 
covering it, chair behind screen, right upper stage; 
picture, typical of family life, left centre stage; door, 
back stage centre; zvindozv zvith flowering plant in 
basket, back stage right; bookcase filled zvith very 
large books, tzco big books and clock on top shelf, 
back stage left; breakfast table set for five persons, 
centre stage. 




tn.*^ 



Discovered: [Mr. Barrington, large man of^ explo- 
sive disposition, grey hair, iron-grey moustache, 
dressed in business suit, at breakfast table reading 
newspaper. Mrs. Barrington about thirty-eight, at- 
tractive, good-natured, pleasing, affectionate, in simple 
blue dress, sits opposite Mr. Barrington.] 
Mr. Barrington [Reading nen'spaper, loivers it. 
looks over breakfast , table, then sweeps his hand over it 
disgustedly.] Nothing- but dishes! Why isn't our 
breakfast on the table? [Throzvs down newspaper.] 

Mrs. Barrington. You see, George, piling food on 
the table is old-fashioned. Rosalind, our new maid, is 
up-to-date. She puts nothing on, but passes everything. 
[Enter Rosalind, rig Jit door, colored maid, fearful, 
when not grinning; awkzvard, jerky; hair done in psyche 
knot; zvaitress cap and apron; she goes to serving tabic, 
pours zvater into tzvo glasses, places one at Mrs. Bar- 
rington's right, but spills Mr. Barrington's as she 
places it. Mr. Barrington glares at Rosalind. She 
passes fruit, roils and coffee to Mr. and Mrs. Barring- 
ton.] 

Mr. Barrington. [Begins to eat.] I don't care 
what's up-to-date. You know well enough that when 
I sit down I want my breakfast right in front of me 
ready to eat. 

Mrs. Barrington. Yes, dear, it's all my fault. I 
forgot to tell Rosalind about it. We can't expect a new 
maid to know everything the first morning. 

Mr. Barrington. Don't you think you are carry- 
ing things with a pretty high hand when you get a 
second maid without asking me? 

Mrs. Barrington. I confess I should have asked 
you, but — 

Mr. Barrington. Well, then, why didn't you? 
[As Rosalind goes out, right door, she casts fright- 
ened glances at Mr. Barrington.] 

Mrs. Barrington. Well, you know it depends upon 
Aunt Mary's will and — that makes you so angry — 

Mr. Barrington. What has that fool will to do 
with your adding another maid ? 

6 
©CI.D 486 9 7 

JAN .2 1918 V , 



Mrs. Harrington . Don't you see, when we get the 
$100,000 Auntie willed to me we can afford to keep two 
maids. 

Mr. Barrington. Well, when you have done the 
crazy things that confounded will calls for, it'll be time 
enough to add expense. 

Mrs. Barrington. That just's the point, George. I 
had to have this maid now to get time to write my 
paper. 

Mr. Barrington. Oh! [Looking around the room.] 
that's why the kids aren't up to breakfast. You are 
wasting your time scribbling instead of looking after 
them. 

Mrs. Barrington. George, dear, be reasjonable. 
The will says I must be a member of the Club, and the 
only way to get in is to present a paper. 

Mr. Barrington. Oh, that paper is your favorite 
topic because you know I don't want you to belong to 
any of those women's clubs, and least of all to that de- 
testable paper-writing club. 

Mrs. Barrington. Tell me — why are you so 
prejudiced against women's clubs? 

Mr. Barrington. Do you think I want you to get 
a lot of new-fangled ideas and uncomfortable notions? 
Women do altogether too much thinking nowadays, 
anyway. 

Mrs. Barrington. Mothers have to do a good deal 
of thinking to keep up with their children. Why, Mary 
Ann makes me feel that I haven't and never did have 
a. single new idea. 

Mr. Barrington. Don't you worry about new ideas. 
I have enough for us both. 

Mrs. Barrington. I am quite sure you have, dear, 
and I do want to please you ; but if I'm not a member 
of that club within a year we'll lose the $100,000. 

Mr. Barrington. Go ahead and join, but why un- 
der the sun do you insist upon writing on such an out- 
landish subject? 

Mrs. Barrington. Why shouldn't I write upon a 
subject that appeals to me? 



Mr. Barrington. But Hottentots — what are Hot- 
tentots to you or anybody else? 

Mrs. Harrington. Why, that darhng old Hotten- 
tot mammy saved my life — 

Mr. Barrington. Well, that's the limit. Just be- 
cause a nurse was good to you when you were a child, 
and she happened to be a Hottentot, you are going to 
make yourself ridiculous by writing a paper on "The 
Perpetuation of the Hottentot Race'' 

[Enter Rosalind, who serves bread to Mrs. Barring- 
ton, but drops butter (cheese may be used) on floor 
when she serves Mr. Barrington. She stops to pick 
it up.] 

^Ir. Barrington. [Ironically.l Rosalind, when 
you've buttered the carpet, might I have some butter 
for my bread? 

Rosalind. Yassah. [Serves Mr. Barrington and 
goes out right.] 

Mrs. Barrington. I want the members of the club 
to know what a noble, unselfish and perfectly splendid 
race the Hottentots really are. 

Mr. Barrington. There you go again into rhapso- 
dies over Hottentots. 

Mrs. Barrington. Why, George, they are like the 
almost extinct buflfalo — nearly all dead. I feel it my 
duty to take care of the remains. 

Mr. Barrington. Yes, an obituary on the bufifalo 
would be just as fit a subject. 

Mrs. Barrington. You don't understand — 

Mr. Barrington. [In great disgust.] I understand 
enough to know that everybody will laugh at you — my 
wife. Really, Bertha, it's too galling. 

Mrs. Barrington. [i?/.sT.y, goes to bookcase, takes 
book, opens, and pei'uses.] All these books from the 
public library are full of such interesting things about 
the Hottentots. 

Mr. Barrington. [Turning round.] There's a 
library full of books on the anatomy of the big toe, but 
would you choose that for a subject? 

Mrs. Barrington. [Comes back to table. Looks at 



Mr. Barringtok szvectl'y and puts her hand on his 
shoulder.] I would — if it were your big toe, dear. 

Mr. Barrington. [Shrugs his shotdders.] Entirely 
ruled by your feelings. Have you no judgment? 

Mrs. Barrington. [Nonchalantly.] Yes, I judge, 
dear, this is not the time to discuss' the subject of my 
paper. 

Mr. Barrington. Why not? 

Mrs. Barrington. Well, the time is approaching— 

Mr. Barrington. To choose a new subject. 

Mrs. Barrington. I can't do it, George. If my 
paper isn't done by ten o'clock today, we shall not get 
the money. 

Mr. Barrington. What do you mean? 

Mrs. Barrington. This is the last day allowed bv 
the will. 

Mr. Barrington. [Leans excitedly toward Mrs. 
Barrington.] Great Scott! Why didn't you tell me 
before that we are running the risk of losing the $100,- 
000? ]Rises. ] You are wasting your time talking to 
me when you should be writing. I'll get out now and 
leave you alone. [Grabs pen and paper from desk.] 
Here, take your pen and paper. Write! Don't let any- 
body in ! Don't lose a minute ! Write on anything, — 
Fiji Islanders, Turks, Kaffirs, Kalmucks, Gorillas, Hot- 
tentots, anything, only write, write, and let nothing 
stop you ! 

[Mr. Barrington pecks rather than kisses Mrs. Bar- 
rington. Rushes out rear door.] 

[Enter Rosalind, right door; takes away dishes.] 

Mrs. Barrington. Rosalind, please call my daugh- 
ters and Master John for breakfast. 

Rosalind. Yas, ma'am. 

[Mrs. Barrington goes to desk, and arranges her 
papers, pencils, opens book, and begins to copy.] 

Mrs. Barrington. "The Hottentots lived on the 
Southwest coast of Africa — " [Still reading, asks ab- 
sent mindedly] Oh, Rosalind, did the — ah — Hottentots 
— answer when you called? 

Rosalind. W'at yo' say, ma'am? 



Mrs. Barrington. Did the — oh, the — children an- 
swer when you called? 

Rosalind. Oh, de chilluns ! I call tree times, I did, 
en de little boy sez he only year me de las' time I call. 

Mrs. Barrington. Set the table, anyway, Rosalind, 
and I'll ring the bell. 

[Opens left door and rings bell, goes to desk, takes 
out a pencil, makes notes on paper.] 

Rosalind. Mus' I put de breakfas, ma'am, on de 
table de way de marser he say? 

Mrs. Barrington. Oh, no, Rosalind ; I prefer to 
have the dishes passed to each member of the family. 
Mr. Barrington likes that way of serving, too, but, Rosa- 
lind, he doesn't know he likes it. 

Rosalind. \Setting the table.] De marser by w'at 
he sez dis mawnin' he reckin he know, but he mout 
change er his mine. 

[Enter at left door Mary Ann, tall, athletic and man- 
nish, in old-rose middy blouse, zvhite skirt, zvhite sneak- 
ers, follozved by Sybil, who is dressed in a plain long 
tier covering her costume, long blonde hair tied back 
zvith ribbon.] 

Mary Ann. [Takes place at table, left centre.] 
Good morning, mother. 

Sybil. Good morning. [Kisses mother; takes place 
beside Mary Ann.] 

Mary Ann. Father gone? 

Mrs. Barrington. [Comes to place at table, bringing 
her book.] Yes, my dear, he hurried off to give me 
time to write. He didn't like it because you weren't 
down to breakfast. 

Mary Ann. Does he expect us to enjoy listening to 
him? [Rosalind serves the breakfast as before, while 
Mrs. Barrington reads. Mary Ann and Sybil eat.\ 

Mrs. Barrington. Whether you enjoy it or not 
courtesy demands that you eat breakfast with us. 

Mary Ann. Courtesy, indeed! Mother, don't try 
to deceive us about father. We know he does nothing 
but growl at breakfast, and I, for one, will not come 
down until he has gone. 

10 



Mrs. Barrington. He doesn't growl, he's just- 
expressive. 

Mary Ann. You know he does. l)ut you're aUo- 
gether too easy with him. You ought to join the suf- 
fragists ; they'd teach you how to manage him. 

Mrs. Barrington. He seems quite ahle to manage 
himself. 

Mary Ann. Of course he does, and to lord it over 
you, too. 

Mrs. Barrington. Well, Mary Ann, when you have 
a husband — 

Mary Ann. When I do, he won't be like father and 
keep me from joining clubs ! 

Mrs. Barrington. But if he should, what would 
you do? 

Mary Ann. I wouldn't wait for anybody's will. I'd 
make him feel— feel— the strength of this right arm. 
[Doubles fist.] 

Sybil. Do you call that a beautiful wav of behaving, 
Mary Ann? 

Mary Ann. Beauty and art are your gods, Sybil. 
Do you know what I think about your beautiful and 
artistic dancing? 

Sybil. I can guess, Mary Ann. 

Mary Ann. It's symbolic slush. . 

Sybil. That's because you can't do it, Mary Ann. 

Mary Ann. Do it? No, I do things that 'are real; 
no fairy fantasies for me. 

Mrs. Barrington. [Has been pouring' the coffee, 
which Rosalind passes.] Mary Ann, you're always 
talking about doing real things. Here's something for 
you. 

Mary Ann. All right; just tell me what it is. 

Mrs. Barrington. Find some way of getting John 
up when he's called. 

Mary Ann. I'll show you how I can do that. 

Mrs. Barrington. Well, wait until you finish your 
breakfast. 

Mary Ann. No, mother, I'll do it now. . [Goes out 
left door.] 

n 



[Rosalind drops a platter of bacon, zvhich she picks 
up bit by bit. Sybil giggles; Rosalind snickers.] 

[Enter Mary Ann dragging John, a boy of eleven, 
kicking and squirming in his pajamas, to right centre.] 

Mary Ann. Next time you'll get up when you're 
called. 

John. [Rubbing his sleepy eyes.] For the love of 
Mike, Mary /\nn, what do you think you are doing? 

Mrs. Barrington. Now, John, go upstairs and 
dress. [Mary Ann sits dozvn at breakfast table as be- 
fore.] 

John. Mary Ann, you brought me down ; take mc 
back. 

Mary Ann. [Eating.] Watch me take you back. 
If you don't start in ten seconds [Looking at the clock], 
I'll help you up a little more forcibly than I brought you 
down. 

John. Huh ! Mary Ann, you couldn't hurt a flea. 

Mary Ann. Flea or no flea, I'm watching the clock. 

John. Keep a-watching. 

Mrs. Barrington. Do hurry, boy, and I'll let you 
play with Billy. 

John. Flay with Billy? Gee! that sounds good. Is 
Mary Ann going to play with Peter — Peter, sweetheart 
eater, Peter, Peter, tennis beater? 

Mary Ann. [Chases John round the table.] I'll 
Peter you in just two seconds. 

Mrs. Barrington. Children! I want this morning 
to write. 

John. You can't do it unless you get a new pen, 
maw. 

Mrs. Barrington. [Surprised.] Why not? 

John. 'Cause your pen has committed suicide. 

Mrs. Barrington. [Laughing.] How's that? 

John. It jumped in the ink-well and got drowned. 
[Sybil and Mrs. Barrington laugh.] 

Mary Ann. Don't get too funny. [Looking at the 
clock.] One second— 

John. [Gradually crawls to right centre.] I'm wait- 
ing for you, Sis. 

12 



Mary Ann. [Gets up and stamps her foot.] Don't 
Sis me, I'll — [Makes a move toward John, hut he 
evades her by rushing out left door. Mary Ann sits 
dozvn again.] 

Mrs. Barrington. Rosalind, please take cereal, 
muffins, and milk upstairs to John. 

Rosalind. Yas, ma'am. [Rosalind goes out right.] 

Mrs. Barrington. It will save time while Rosalind 
is getting John's breakfast — 

Mary Ann. Let him do without. What a fuss you 
make over him. 

Mrs. Barrington. If you girls clear away the 
dishes, — 

Mary Ann. That isn't fair. Let Rosalind take olT 
the dishes. 

Mrs. Barrington. No, Mary Ann, you see for your- 
self that Rosalind is busy, and to save time you must 
help. [Mary Ann scozds. Mrs. Barrington sits 
down at her desk and ivrites, while Sybil and Mary 
Ann get up, pile up dishes, one middle right, the other 
middle left.] 

Mary Ann. [Counting the dishes.] There are 
1-6-8-10-14-18-20-35 dishes; that's eighteen for you, 
Sybil, and seventeen for me. 

Sybil. No, you clear away eighteen and I'll clear 
away seventeen. [Sybil stands looking at dishes, zvhile 
Mary Ann begins to take away dishes.] 

Mary Ann. Do you hear me? Eighteen is you — 
[Sybil takes pile of dishes to serving table.] 

Sybil and Mary Ann. [Sybil returns to right 
centre, Mary Ann to left centre.] Yours, yours. 

Mary Ann. I am the older; you must do as I bid 
you. [Both take dishes azvay.] 

Sybil. You are taller, but that's no excuse for your 
rudeness. [There is only one plate left.] 

Mary Ann. [Pointing to plate.] There's your last 
plate. 

Sybil. [Pointing to plate.] Your last plate. 

Mary Ann. Pick it up. 

Sybil. Pick it up yourself. 

13 



Mary Ann. [Dramatically.] I shall not take up 
that plate. 

Mrs. Barrington. Girls, stop, stop ! Don't you 
know that you must help and not hinder? 

Mary Ann. Mother, I am trying to help by giving 
Sybil a little discipline. She is utterly spoiled. 

Mrs. Barrington. If taking that plate off improves 
Sybil's morals, what will happen to yours? 

Mary Ann. Oh, I am willing to sacrifice my morals 
for the sake of improving hers. 

I\1rs. Barrington. [Impatiently.] Girls, girls, if I 
don't get this manuscript written by 10 o'clock, [Look- 
ing at the clock] we shall not get one cent of Aunty's 
money. 

Mary Ann. Principle is what I care about, not 
money. It's Sybil's duty to take that plate away. vSacri- 
fice principle for a plate? W^ell, not much — 

Mrs. Barrington. [Distressed.] Have you no con- 
sideration for me? 

Sybil. [Goes to Jier juotlier, puts Jier anus around 
her neck, kisses her.] Mummy, dear, I'll put the plate 
away. I don't care about principle or money, but I love 
you. [Mother pats Sybil's hands. Sybil takes plate 
away. Mary Ann claps her hands triumphantly.] 

Mrs. Barrington. Now you may go to Aunt Ellen's 
for the day. Rosalind will answer the doorbell and keep 
me from being disturbed. 

Mary Ann. That's jolly; tennis for me; good-bye. 
[Goes out rear door.] 

Sybil. [Rushes up to Mrs. Barrington.] Oh, 
mother, have you forgotten I am to dance the Syrinx 
this afternoon? 

Mrs. Barrington. The Hottentots put your dance 
completely out of my mind. 

Sybil. To make sure of doing it right, I need one 
more rehearsal. Won't you play it just once? 

[Enter Rosalind right door; begins to put the books 
into the case.] 

Mrs. Barrington. I can't spare the time, Sybil. I 

14 



have several new pages to write, and all these pages to 
copy. [Holding up fifteen pages of manuscript.] 

Sybil. Mother, you couldn't let me make a fizzle of 
my dance, could you ? 

Mrs. Barrington. Giving up that much time may 
make me lose $100,000. 

Sybil. Just once, mummy, dear, please. [Goes to 
her mother, puts her arm round her, and kisses her.] 

Mrs. Barrington. Yes, yes, if you'll hurry and 
change your dress. [Sighs as Sybil goes out left door.\ 
At this rate of speed I'll lose the money, but, dear me, 
what can I do? [IVaves arms impatiently.] Oh, Rosa- 
lind, don't touch the books. Take the table away for 
Sybil's dance, 

Rosalind. Miss Sybil she gwine ter dance like she 
did yistiddy. I kin dance misse'f, [Takes fezv steps 
like jig\ but 1 nebber see nobody dance des like dat Miss 
Sybil, but I tinks I can. 

Mrs. Barrington. [JVrites rapidly, reads, and does 
not see Rosalind dance. \ "South coast of Africa and 
had light skins and long, intellectual-looking foreheads. 
They were undoubtedly of Semitic origin — " [Rosalind 
imitates Sybil's dancing, tJiro-wing up arms and throzv- 
ing her feet out. McamvJiile she watches Mrs. Barring- 
ton for fear of being caught. Rosalind sees Sybil 
coming and makes a hurried, awkward exit.] 

[Sybil enters left door dressed in flowing costume, 
sajidals, flowing hair zvith garland of flozvers in her 
hands.] 

Mrs. Barrington. Hurry now, you mustn't waste 
one second. 

Sybil. No, I wont. [Throzvs kisses to mother as she 
goes out.] You are just the sweetest mother! 

Mrs. Barrington goes off left door; plays piano 
zi'Jiile Sybil dances an interpretative dance; exit Sybil 
left door.] 

Sybil. [Off^ stage.] Thank you so much, mummy 
dear. My dance will go all right now. 

[Enter Mrs. Barrington left door, sits down at her 
desk, picks up book, goes over papers nervously, etc.] 

15 



Where was I at? Oh, yes — "and they were undoubt- 
edly of Semitic origin." [Looks iip and thinks aloud.] 
I shall have to explain that to the ladies of the club. 
That means that they were white originally, but that 
climate and intermarriage so altered their color and 
features that they have been classed \ Looks zuise as she 
pronounces] "ethnologically as negroes." [Expresses 
satisfaction.] That's a long word; sounds well too. 
'Tiiey were a peace-loving people." [Scream heard 
from outside right door.] 

Rosalind. [Enters right door, frightened and with 
rolling eyes, calls out.] He's gwine ter ketch me. [She 
holds her hands dropped from ivaist, trembling and 
sJiaking in line zvith her zvaist, and jumps up and dozvn.] 

Mrs. Barrington. [Alarmed.] What's the matter? 

Rosalind. [Still screaming, agitated as before, 
clutches Mrs. Barrington.] De man's gwine ter kill 
me. 

Mrs. Barrington. What man? 

Rosalind. [Peering around corner.] De man out 
dar in dat kitchen, ma'am. [Tries to shield herself be- 
hind Mrs. Barrington.] 

Mrs. Barrington. Are you getting behind so that he 
will kill me first? 

Rosalind. No, no, ma'am, don't yo' go. [Mrs. 
Barrington tries to free ■ herself.] Don't yo' go, 
ma'am ! 

Mrs. Barrington. Rosalind, let me go; let me go. 
[Rosalind's hold relaxes; Mrs. Barrington goes to 
right door, and timidly peers into kitchen; Mrs. Bar- 
rington starts back.] 

Rosalind. [Begins to holler louder.] He's gwine 
ter kill us, ma'am. [Man in butcher's clothes and bushy 
red zvhiskers zvith a big carz'ing knife in his hand comes 
in.] 

Mrs. Barrington. Why, this is the butcher, Rosa- 
lind. [To Butcher.] What's the matter? 

Butcher. Madam, there's something the matter with 
her. She began to yell when I asked her — 

16 



Mrs. Barrington. [Tuniiug to Rosalind.] Rosa- 
lind, stop screaming. This man won't hurt you. 

Rosalind. I standin' a' de sink a washin' de dishes, 
ma'am, en dis man he com' mighty nigh me wid dat big- 
knife, en he ax' me — 

Mrs. Barrington. Asked what? 

Rosalind. Fo' wun er m' ribs. 

Mrs. Barrington. For one of your 

Rosalind. Yes, ma'am, he ax' m' did I hab a rib ter 
spare ? 

Butcher. \Intcrruptiug.] Madam, that ain't what 
I asked her. 

Rosalind. Y's, ma'am, dat's w'at he ax' m'. 

Butcher. [Threateningly brandishes knife tozmrds 
Rosalind zuhen Mrs. Barrington turns her baek 1 I 
didn't— I asked— 

Rosalind. A takin' wun er m' ribs, he'd sho' kill 

Mrs. Barrington. [To Butcher.] What did you 
say to her? 

^ Butcher. Madam, I asked her how about a spare 
rib today: [Mrs. Barrington laughs; Butcher brand- 
ishes knife at Rosalind behind Mrs. Barrington's 
baek, and Rosalind falls baek.^ 

Mrs. Barrington. [Laughing.] Didn't you ever 
hear of a spare rib, Rosalind? He didn't want one of 
your ribs. He wanted us to buy a spare rib of pig. 
Nothing today, thank you, butcher. 

Rosalind. 'Pon m' soul, ma'am, I nebber did wurk 
for des wun missus down South, en' h'r bu'cher, ma'am, 
he nebber did ax' m' dat. 

Butcher. Madam, that old black nigger can't tell a 
rib from a pig's foot. 

^ RosALixND. Dat ole red bu'ch'r he' so 'cited he dunno 
nice color' lady w'en h' see wun. [Butcher, in disgust, 
goes out right door.] He sho' skeer'd me, ma'am. 1 
nebber did year no man use dat sorter landwidge befo'. 
I des tink I ain't a gwine ter stay. 

Mrs. Barrington. [Puts her hand on Rosalind's 
shoulder.] Rosalind, you mustn't go. 

Rosalind. I des hatter go, ma'am. 

17 



Mrs. Barrington. Rosalind, I can't see anybody. If 
you go, who will answer the door? 

Rosalind. Yo' ole cook, ma'am, she answ'r, 

Mrs. Barrington. [Goes. t(^Jic{' desk.] Rosalind, 
go into the kitchen and do youF Vofk'. ' 

Rosalind. Ma'am, L des can.'t, nohow. Dat bu'cher, 
he skeer'd me outen m' skin, en I des too feered ter stay 
in dat kitchen. Den de marser he sez dat I mus' put 
eb'rytin' on de table ; you sez put nuthin on, den you sez 
Marser change er his mine. I reckin if he ain't done 
dat, he mout be gittin' mad wid hie. 

Mrs. Barrington. Mad with you? Well, you'll get 
used to that. 

Rosalind. I nebber could gedder useter de Marser 
nor to de bu'cher, ma'am ; den, dat Marser John, he v'ry 
funny. I too skeer'd ter stay wid yo'. Moighty sorry, 
kaze I tink yo' v'ry nice lady. 

Mrs. Barrington. Oh, for my old Hottentot nurse 
who never left me ! 

Rosalind. She color'd lady too, ma'am? 

Mrs. Barrington. Yes, Rosalind, her great-great- 
grandmother might have been related to yours. How 
I did love — 

Rosalind. W'at's dat vou sav, ma'am, dat vo' lub 
m'? 

Mrs. Barrington. I love the Hottentots so much, 
Rosalind, that I am writing a paper about them. 

Rosalind. Den, I des hatter stay, ma'am, cause lub's 
de wun ting I nebber kin getter way frum nohow. 

Mrs. Barrington. Thank you, Rosalind. Now go 
upstairs and make the beds. Remember that I love you 
and you'll forget the butcher. [Rosalind looks affec- 
tionately at Mrs. Barrington and goes out left door.] 

Rosalind. Dat's des w'at I gwine ter do, ma'am. 

Mrs. Barrington. [Sits dozen at her desk. She 
writes and reads.] "These peace-loving people were 
mostly shepherds, and were so fond of their cattle and 
sheep that thev couldn't bear to kill — [Stops and listens.] 
to kill — Rosalind ! [Rear doorbell rings.'] 

Mrs. Barrington. [Emphatically.] I shall not go 

18 



to the door. \ Calls.] Rosalind! Rosalind! \Gocs on 
writing and reading very fast. \ "After the Hottentots 
were driven away hy the Dutch farmers, they inter-mar- 
ried with the Bantues and gradually lost their — " [Rear 
doorbell rings again. She puts hands to ears.] Door- 
bells! ''Later, the English settled— settled— " [Mrs. 
Barrincton moves restlessly i)i Jicr cJiair as she hears 
the turning of the door knob, and she tries to hide behind 
the bookease just as a ivoman turns the door knob and 
looks in.] 

Mrs. Barrington. {Desperately. \ 1 am driven out. 
too. I shall have to — [Pulls herself together and goes 
to tJie door.] 

[Enter Mrs. De IMarr. ////";/ and dozcdily dressed in 
blaek silk dress, gold ehain, eanieo breastpin, and with a 
book in Jier hand. She speaks in a high-pitehed nasal 
voice and has a habit of sniffing. \ 

Mrs. Barrincton. [Shaking hands zcitli Mrs. Df^ 
Marr.] How do you do, Mrs. De Marr? I am so 
sorry you waited. | Offering a chair. \ Do sit down. 

Mrs. Dr. Marr. You're sorry I waited — Well, Vm 
going right away. 

Mrs. Barrington. [Apologetic] Why, Mrs. De 
Marr, I am delighted to see you. I confess I was rather 
busy stuffing papers into the waste basket. 

Mrs. De Marr. Really, you looked to me as if you 
were dodging behind the bookcase. [Looks pointedly 
at bookcase.] 

Mrs. Barrington. Well, you see I was expecting 
Rosalind, my new maid, to answ^er the bell. 

Mrs. De Marr. [With great surprise and interest: 
sits dozvn.] A new maid! So you are going to put on 
style when you get your aunt's money? Rosalind? 
Ahem — with a name like that, I suppose she is one or 
those trig and natty French maids. 

[Enter Rosalind left door, zvith. broom, duster, dust- 
pan, and towels in her hands. Mrs. De Marr looks at 
Rosalind from head to foot, surprise changing grad- 
ually to contempt.] 

19 



Rosalind. Did de do'r b'll ring, ma'am? [When 
she sees Mrs. De Mark she drops the dustpan.] 

'Mrs. Barrington. Too late, Rosalind, but next 
time — 

Rosalind. Nex' time I year de b'll I run, ma'am. 
[Rosalind picks up the dustpan, but os she meets Mrs. 
De Marr's stare, she drops the broom. With her scared 
eyes still fixed on Mrs. De Marr, she slozvly picks up 
the broom, but drops the duster. Picks up duster, drops 
to7vels, and nervously goes out left door.] 

Mrs. De Marr. Ha ! ha ! | Laughs.] So she is go- 
ing to run ! Well, I should hope so ! Really I almost 
forgot — \^Laughs.\ that I came to bring you [Laughs.] 
this book. [Holds out book to Mrs. Harrington.] 

Mrs. Barrington. [Rises and takes book.] Oh! a 
book for me? 

Mrs. De Marr. Yes, my sister who works in the 
library sent it. 

Mrs. Barrington. [Glancing through the pages of 
the book. I Oh, this is the book I tried to get yesterday 
— How very thoughtful of your sister — 

Mrs. De Marr. Yes, she said you were terribly dis- 
appointed because she couldn't get it for you yesterday. 

Mrs. Barrington. Indeed, I was — how very kind of 
you to bring it. 

Mrs. De Marr. My sister wondered what in the 
world anybody could want of such a book — . Let me 
see — the title is — "Hottentots in an African Jungle." 

Mrs. Barrington. There are some references in it 
I want — 

Mrs. De Marr. Oh! you expect to find out about— 
about — your new maid. [Laughs.] Ha! ha! she doe-^ 
look like a Hottentot — from a jungle too, ha ! ha ! 

Mrs. Barrington. No! no! Mrs. De Marr, that 
isn't what I wanted the book for. 

Mrs. De Marr. [Glancing round the room.] Oh, it 
isn't — well — ahem — you said something about papers. 
[Looking at desk.] What a lot you have on your desk! 
My, but I hope you're not trying to be "litrary." 

20 



Mrs. Barrtngton. Well, not exactly — but I am 
writing a paper — 

Mrs. De Marr. Oh ! you're writing a i)aper — to get 
you into the Woman's Club? Then I hope you'll write 
on a subject that you know something about. 

Mrs. Barrington. I have certainly tried to learn all 
I could about the Hottentots ! 

Mrs. De Marr. What ! Do you mean to say you are 
writing about the Hottentots? Well, no wonder you're 
all fussed up. The club women have written about the 
most unheard-of things, but that beats them all. 

Mrs. Barrington. Then you belong to the club and 
know all about the — 

Mrs. De Marr. [Coiitcuiptuously. \ Oh, no, I'm not 
a member ; I don't know enough to join that club. 

Mrs. Barrington. 1 suppose you feel as I do, that 
the members are so clever, reading, studying, and writ- 
ing on all sorts — 

Mrs. De Marr. Not at all. Do you know how they 
write their ])apers? 

Mrs. Barrington. Do tell me, Mrs. De Marr; I'm 
looking for all the help I can get. 

Mrs. De Marr. They take a lot of books from the 
library — [Looks accusingly at the books in the case. 
Mrs. Barrington turns red.] and copy whole pages. 

Mrs. Barrington. How do you know? 

Mrs. De Marr. My sister doesn't sit in the library — 
with her eyes shut. 

Mrs. Barrington. Because, they take out books from 
the library, it doesn't mean that they copy the text. 

Mrs. De Marr. I heard a paper at the club myself-- 
ahem — I was a guest of Mrs. Tompkins — I had read 
the whole thing in a book my sister gave me. Now, what 
more proof do you want? 

Mrs. Barrington. - Yes, but not verbatim? 

Mrs. De Marr. I suppose it was for bait, but you 
see, I didn't bite. [Laughs. \ Ha ! ha ! ha ! They don't 
give anybody credit for knowing as much as they do, but 
thev can't fool me. Ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Mrs. Barrington. That might happen— unexpected 

21 



interruptions might take so much time that the author 
couldn't finish — 

Mrs. De Mark. Well, the way these women get 
themselves up to read their papers before the club 
doesn't look as if there was any lack of time. Why, my 
dear, they even run in debt to buy their clothes. 

Mrs. Barrington. Really, Mrs. De Marr, I don't 
believe they spend more than — than — you or I, but they 
get from contact with other women, well, a style — what 
the French call "chic." 

Mrs. De Marr. Is that what you call it? Well, how 
many husbands do you suppose stay at home evenings 
while their wives are at the club getting style? 

Mrs. Barrington. If they are like Mr. Barrington, 
they never think of going out. 

Mrs. De Marr. What a simple woman you are, Mrs. 
Barrington. You certainly have a lot to learn about 
men. 

Mrs. Barrington. Well, there are many places to — 

Mrs. De Marr. That's what 1 found out when 1 
joined a club. There were so many restaurants and 
movies that my husband liked to go to that he wanted me 
to join all the clubs. 

Mrs. Barrington. [Ecstatically.] What a joy to 
feel that you could belong to all the clubs. 

Mrs. De Marr. Joy, indeed, and let him go out every 
night. 

Mrs. Barrington. [SytiipatJirtically.] Oh, I see, 
his health is delicate. Night air didn't agree with him. 

Mrs. De Marr. It agreed with him all right — but it 
was pretty hard on me — He talked all the time about a 
movie actress — 

Mrs. Barrington. Really? 

Mrs. De Marr. I didn't mind about the actress — 
but he lost interest in our neighbors and wouldn't listen 
to a word I said. 

Mrs. Barrington. How you must have suffered — 
Don't you think children in the home keep a man's in- 
terest? 

Mrs. De Marr. Not in the least. Men are just as 

22 



bad as the club women in that respect — They don't stay 
in the house long enough to know their own children. 
And how they let them behave ! 

Mrs Barrington. [Piqued and impatient.] Well, 
Mrs. De Marr, I am very proud of my children, and 
everybody says they behave beautifully. 

Mrs. De Marr. Well, Mrs. Barrington, if I had 
children, money would never tempt me to neglect them 
for the sake of belonging to a club — [i^/jr^^.?.] I might 
speak a little plainer, — but I never under any circum- 
stances give advice to my neighbors. 

Mrs. Barrington. [7^/.yr.j.] A very good rule, Mrs. 
De Marr, — must you go? 

Mrs. De Marr. Yes, I must be going — Good-bye 
and — [As Mrs. Barrington shakes hands and is ac- 
companying Mrs. De Marr to rear door, loud talking is 
heard on left. Rosalind rushes in frightened and shout- 
ing, holding up skirt, and mounts on Mrs. De Marr's 
chair.] 

Rosalind. De mouse! de mouse! de mouse! [Mrs. 
De Marr and Mrs. Barrington rush toward chairs. 
Mrs. Barrington stands on her desk chair, Mrs. De 
Marr on right centre chair. They all ivrap their skirts 
around them.] 

Mrs. Barrington. Where, where is the mouse? 

Rosalind. Ma'am, I wus upsta'rs a makin' er de bed, 
uh, uh, and Marser John he com' and he sez ter look at 
him. I did look at Marser John, I did, den he sez look 
at de bed. I look at de bed and der wuz a mouse, uh, uh, 
uh, a runnin' on de sheet, uh, uh. uh ! 

Mrs. Barrington. Rosalind, go and ask Master 
John to come down. 

Rosalind. [Rolling her eyes.] Lord a massy, 
ma'am, I can't go nohow, uh, uh, uh ! 

Mrs. Barrington. [Calls.] John! John! John! 

John. [Enters left door.] Yes, maw, I'm here. 

Mrs. Barrington. John, quick, get the trap and 
catch the mouse. 

John. He don't need no trap, maw. [John put. 



s 
23 



his hand on his pocket flap, holding the mouse; goes 
toward Rosalind, zvho shakes ivith terror.'] 

Rosalind. Uh, uh, iih — [Mrs. De Marr holds up 
her skirt and measures distance from John.] 

Mrs. Barrington. Take him away! Take him 
away ! 

John. Say, don't be scared of a nice httle mouse. 

Rosalind. Uh, uh, uh, Marser John! [John next 
moves tozvard Mrs. De Marr.] 

Mrs. De Marr. [Terrified and holding skirt a little 
tighter.] Don't come near me, you rascal ! 

John. [Takes mouse out of his pocket and puts it 
on the floor.] Maw% I'll lend him to you. [The tzvo 
zvomen dance up and dozvn on their chairs until they 
notice that the mouse makes a humming noise and runs 
round and round in a circle. They zvatcJi it until it runs 
dozvn. Rosalind stands on her chair.] 

Mrs. Barrington. [Steps dozvn.] Oh, it's a me- 
chanical mouse ! 

[Rosalind, still frightened and perplexed, stands on 
her chair after Mrs. Barrington has stepped dozvn.] 

Rosalind. Ma'am, is de mouse dead? 

Mrs. Barrington. No, Rosalind ; he never was alive 
— it's just a toy mouse. 

Rosalind. I nebber did seed that kind o' mouse befo'. 
[During the foUozving she looks suspiciously at the 
mouse and begins to come off her chair; stops and looks 
at the mouse and begins to descend, but isn't convinced 
that the mouse zvill not run after her. She returns and 
stands firmly on chair. Gradually, zcith her terrified 
eyes on the mouse, sJie steps on the floor and moves 
tozvard the door.] 

Mrs De Marr. [Steps dozvn.] So that's a sample 
of your son's beautiful behavior! 

Mrs. Barrington. Oh, that's just one of John's 
jokes. I am so sorry he frightened you. 

Mrs. De Marr. Well, I'll say good-bye to you — your 
beautiful son, his mouse, and your maid. Quite a men- 
agerie ! Ha ! ha ! [Laughs.] Good-bye, 

24 



Mrs. Barrington. [Disturbed.] Good-bye, Mrs. 
De Marr. [Exit Mrs. De Marr rear door.] 

Mrs. Barrington. What a gossiping woman, but 
why is she ? — Oh — I remember she couldn't get into the 
club. I'll lock the door so that no one else can get in. 
[Locks door.] 

Rosalind. [Trying to prevent her. ] Oh, ma'am, 
pie's' don't lock de door. 

Mrs. Barrington. Why, Rosalind, you're not going 
out. 

Rosalind. Beggin' yo' pardon, ma'am, but I can't 
stay her' wid dat mous', and I can't stay in de ki'chen on 
count de bu'cher, and I 'feer'd, ma'am, dat Marser John 
he find mo' mice on de beds. 1 jest reckin' I hatter go 
dis time. 

Mrs. Barrington. But, Rosalind, you said you 
couldn't leave my love. 

Rosalind. Dat mouse he skeer'd all de lub out o' 
me. 

Mrs. Barrington. But if you'll stay, I'll give you 
some more. 

Rosalind. I'm dat skeered, ma'am, dat I ain't no 
good ter yo' nohow. I feels bad, I do, but I des musser 
git m' cloze en go, ma'am. [Exit Rosalind rig lit.] 

Mrs. Barrington. Now I must do some rapid 
writing. [Goes to desk and zvrites.] "The Hottentots 
fought so desperately that they routed the Dutch. For 
some years they were not molested — \ Stops and listens 
as voices are heard outside.] molested — molested." 

Mary Ann. You should! [Off stage rear.] 

Man's Voice. I'll do nothing of the sort, Mary Ann. 
[Knocking on rear door.] 

Mary Ann. Oh, yes, you will, because it's right. 

Man's Voice. [Outside.] Yes, you think it's right, 
but I think it's all wrong. 

Mary Ann. [Pounding on the door.] Mother, un- 
lock the door. 

Mrs. Barrington. No, Mary Ann, I can't lose a 
minute. My paper — 

Mary Ann. [Still pounding.] Mother, is your paper 

25 



more important than your daughter? You are an un- 
natural mother. You are neglecting — 

Man's Voice. Please, Mrs. Harrington, it is very 
important. 

Mrs. Barrington. [IVrifcs and reads.] "The Eng- 
lish came to Cape Colony." [Puts her Jiand up to her 
head-in distress as she hears Mary Ann pound on back 
stage door.] 

Mary Ann. Mother, please unlock the door. Never 
mind the old Hottentots ; attend to me ! 

Mrs. Barrington. [Distraught, but still zvriting and 
reading.] ''Took away the liberties of the Hottentots 
and reduced — reduced — " [Mary Ann shakes the door. 
Mrs. Barrington zvith both hands up to her head in 
despair unlocks the door. Mary Ann and Peter, young 
and effeminate, fat and short, dressed in tennis suit, fall 
into the room talking and gesticulating. Mrs. Barring- 
ton dolefully sits at her desk and tries to read.] 

Mary Ann. I tell you, it is right. 

Peter. I tell you, it's all wrong. 

Mrs. Barrington. Dear me, what's the matter with 
you two ? 

Peter. She says I must — 

Mary Ann. Of course he must. 

Mrs. Barrington. [Turns, facing Peter and Mary 
Ann.] Must what? 

Peter. Do all the things Mary Ann says. 

Mrs. Barrington. What are all these "musts'' 
about ? 

Peter. [Counts them off.] There are so many 
"musts," Mrs. Barrington. Mary Ann says I must vote 
and lecture for women's suffrage, I must carry a ban- 
ner, and I must march in all the parades. 

Mrs. Barrington. Of course,- Peter, you'd cut a 
figure ; but why must you ? 

Peter. But, Mrs. Barrington, that isn't nearly all the 
"musts." 

Mrs. Barrington. Put your "musts" in your pocket. 
I cannot take time to discuss them now. 

26 



Peter. Please, Mrs. Barrington, don't make me 
wait. I must know this minute. 

Mrs. Barrington. Another must, well, I'll add tzvo 
more. You must both go and adjust your differences. 
I must work on my paper. 

Peter. But the point is, Mrs. Barrington, unless 1 
agree to these things today, Mary Ann will not promise 
to marry me. 

Mrs. Barrington. [Greatly surprised. | Marry you ! 

Pet]-:r. Yes, Mrs. Barrington, that's what all this is 
about. 

Mrs. Barrington. Oh, I see, Mary Ann has begun 
to train you already. 

Mary Ann. Of course, I have; if you had started 
father right, you wouldn't have had to wait for Aunt 
Mary to make a will before you could get his permission 
to join the club. 

Peter. You see, I love Mary Ann, and I hope she 
loves — 

Marv Ann. Not unless you promise to — 

Peter. To march. Why, it hurts my feet, Mary 
Ann. and I'm too short anyway to carry a banner. Don't 
you think she might carry the banner? 

Marv Ann. Peter, I don't want a coward. Even 
if you are little, you might be a hero. 

Mrs. Barrington. If you marry Mary Ann, Peter, 
you will be a hero. 

Peter. But she says I must furnish a doctor's cer- 
tificate to the effect that I have never smoked, chewed, 
nor indulged in alcoholic liquors, and that I must sub- 
scribe to the single standard of morality. 

Mrs. Barrington. All these things are of vital im- 
portance if you wish to marry Mary Ann. 

Mary Ann. [Jubilaut.l There, Peter, you see 
mother agrees with me. 

Peter. Oh, well, if you both think I ought to, I'll 
do it, but I can't stretch my imagination to the other re- 
quirement. 

Mrs. Barrington. What is it, Peter? 

Peter. She insists that I must take a course in the 

27 



'^Bringing--up of Children" at the Domestic Science 
School for Fathers. 

Mary Ann. Well, why shouldn't you? 

Peter. I suggested, Mrs. Barrington, that we might 
wait until — we had — we had — the children — 

Mary Ann. That'll be too late. You'll be too busy 
taking care of them. 

Peter. Couldn't I leave them for an hour or so in 
the evening? 

Mary Ann. Not much. T might miss a suffrage 
meeting. 

Peter. When there is no meeting, wouldn't you give 
me an evening off ? 

Mary Ann. If you love me you'll stay at home every 
evening and tend the children. 

Peter. Mary Ann, I do love you. I can't live with- 
out you. If I agree to take the Domestic Science Course 
for Fathers, and tend the children when they cry, and 
agree never to go out in the evening — 

Mary Ann. Don't forget that 1 miist have a chummy 
roadster. 

Peter. You can't expect me to buy a chummy road- 
ster on $1,-300 a year. [Takes box of candy out of his 
pocket.] Wouldn't this box of candy do instead? 

Mary Ann. Peter, do you think I could love a man 
who offers me candy when I want a chummy roadster? 

Peter. Well, where can I get the money to buy one? 

Mary Ann. Understand, I'll have nothing to do 
with you until you have the money. Why, you have no 
more backbone than a shrimp. I ask nothing of you, 
and you balk like a steer. {Exit Mary Ann left door.] 

Peter. [Drops head in his hands on back of chair 
centre stage.] Mrs. Barrington, you heard what she 
said. She won't marry me. I'm not a shrimp, and I 
don't balk like a steer. 

Mrs. Barrington. It's quite bad enough loving 
Mary Ann, but marrying Alary Ann might be a great 
deal worse. 

Peter. No one gives me any sympathy. 

28 



Mrs. Barrington. Peter, do you want my advice > 
I 1 urning round, stops zvritiny.] 

Peter. Oh, yes, anybody's advice. 

Mrs. Barrington. Stay and help me. If I don't 
hnish this paper by ten o'clock, I shall lose $100,000 

Peter. Oh, Mrs. Barrington, wouldn't that be dread- 
,A'r, } "^ ^^ hX^mt, but won't vou have some candy ^ 
yujfers her caudy.^ 

Mrs. Barrington. This is no time for candy Peter 
but help me. Get pen and ink and copy this part of my 
manuscript. [Peter goes to desk, gets pen and paper 
leaves box open.] 

Peter. If you get the $100,000, you'll buy a chummy 
roadster ? ' -^ 

Mrs. Barrington. Oh, I'll buy anything to get this 
paper done. 

Peter. Then Alary Ann could let me off on the 
chummy roadster. 1 could do the rest. The course in 
bringing up — 

Mrs. Barrington. Forget Mary Ann and get ready 
to do cop\ing. [Mrs. Barrington takes manuscript 
and places it in front of Peter.] Now will you begin 
here. [Peter sighs and begins to copy. Mrs. Barring- 
ton goes back to desk, zcrites, looks up snddenl'yA I 
have it, Peter, I have it. 

Peter. The chummy roadster? 
_ Mrs. Barrington. 'Oh. no. I see how I can save 
time. 

Peter. [Face falls.] Oh ! 

Mrs. Barrington. " Mrs. De Marr said that the 
papers read before the club were not original, but were 
copied from books. If I do that, I may be able to 
finish — 

Peter. Mary Ann wouldn't approve of that at all. 

Mrs. Barrington. I can't help it, Peter. I am 
desperate. 

\ Enter Rosalind, right door, dressed for street in gay 
attire — short skirt zvith white stockings, fancy shoes, 
feathers; carries tzvo big boxes, a bag, an umbrella, a 
fan; hair done in a prolonged psyche knot zvhile hat goes 

29 



up in proportion; mores dozen centre toi^'ard Mrs. Har- 
rington. 

Mrs. Barrington. Oh, Rosalind, I haven't time now 
to speak to you. You — 

Rosalind. I des hatter go, ma'am. Yo' a gwine ter 
pay me, ma'am? 

Mrs. Barrington. Yes, yes. If I can find some 
money. [Turns to desk, looks for money, pulls out 
papers and drawers. Seattering them on the floor, she 
finally hands Rosalind a hill. Rosalind in trying to 
take it drops her things and picks each up in turn, and 
finally takes money and puts it into Jier belt, while Mrs. 
Barrington sits and ivrites.l^ 

Rosalind. V mighty sorry ter leb yo' lub, ma'am, 
but I nebber could gitter useter Marser John and hi' 
mouse^ nor ter de bu'cher, nor de marser. I lub you ; an' 
I v'ry, v'ry sorry, but I des musser go. Go'by, ma'am. 
[Makes an elaborate bozu and her liat falls off. She 
picks it up and, after baiancing herself and her baggage, 
goes.\ Go'by, ma'am. Go'by, Marser. 

Mrs. Barrington. If I ever write another paper, 
I'll begin two years ahead. Peter, have you finished 
copying? [Peter shakes his head.] Oh, Peter, copy, 
copy faster and faster. Wlien you've finished that, take 
this big book [Hands Peter big book. \ and copy from 
here to there. I have hardly time to dress for the club. 
Remember Mary Ann and the chummy roadster depend 
upon your speed in copying. [Exit Mrs. Barringtox 
left door.^ 

Peter. [Copies as he reads.'] "The Hottentots were 
so useful to the English that, had it not been for — [Gaz- 
ing in space.] for Mary Ann, they would have lost the 
Boer War. Arthur Funnerman seeing — seeing — her 
cruelty tried to arouse sympathy and to give justice to 
the lover. The plan was to reserve for them — for them 
— a chummy roadster just as the American people have 
done for their Indians." 

[John enters right door, dressed iji soldier's ujiifonn 
icitJi father's high boots on a)id carrying a drum. Does a 
military march, beating his drum, and stubbing his toe^, 

30 



stops.] Catling guns and submarines, Peter, what you 
doing here? 

Peter. Working for a chuniniv roadster. 

John. That's a funny way to work for a chummy 
roadster. 

Peter. It seems funny when you're young, but when 
you're as old as 1, it's pretty serious. 

John. \Xq\\, V\\ tell you what Pm doing. Pm Uncle 
Sam looking for the Kaiser, but, gee ! my boots flop so 
I can't march fast enough to catch him. \ Love song 
begins off stage. \ 

Peter. [Cets up zcitli rapt expression ; liste)is.\ 
Listen, that's Mary Ann singing. Oh, Pm going to her. 
[Rushes through right door, leaving on table tzvo sepa- 
rate piles of papers and a box of eandy.\ 

John. I don't know what he's got; but he's got it. 
\Looks at Jiis boots, singing off stage stops, marches 
back and forth beating drum.] These boots are so big I 
can't march in them. Gee ! 1 know what PU do. | Sees 
papers. Grabs the first pile, sits down on floor, takes 
boots off and stuffs papers into the toes. Gets up, 
marehes around stage again trying his boots. Beats 
drum zvhile he says] : — 

With my boots all stuiTed so fine, 
I can surely reach the Rhine. 
Pll give the Kaiser fits. 
And kick him into bits. 
That's what Pll do wnth my big shoes. 
For Yankee Doodle Doo's. 
Gee whiz, this drum strap hurts my neck. [He takes 
off drum and leaves it on centre ehair and discovers 
Peter's box of candy.] Gosh ! Look at the candy. 
[Takes a handful and puts into his mouth; chews zvith 
complete satisfaction until he hears Peter's voice, zvhen 
he hurriedlv empties the box into mouth and pockets; 
runs and gets behind right centre screen, leaving his 
drum on the table. Peter and Mary Ann enter rear 
door, zvith tennis racquets, hats, and sweaters.] 

Mary Ann. [Looking at empty candy box.] Oh, 
the candy's all gone. 

31 



Peter. Never mind, if you'll only love me, I'll buy 
all you want. [Grinning sheepishly and moving fozvard 
Mary Ann.] You do, don't you? 

Mary Ann. [Moving away.] Well, I can't tell you 
until you get the money to buy — 

Peter. When your mother gets the $100,000, she is 
going to buy the chummy roadster. Tell me that you 
love me, just a little bit. [Tries to put his arm around 
Mary Ann's zvaist.] 

Mary Ann. [Pushes his arm azcay.] Oh, no, Peter, 
none of that — yet; not until you promise that you'll 
never oppose me in anything. 

Peter. Fll promise, if you'll only love me. 

Mary Ann. Yes, yes, I think I do, but you'll take 
the course — 

Peter. Pll take anything, and I'll take a kiss right 
now. [Kisses Mary Ann, making eonsiderahle noise. \ 

John. [Looks over screen, laughs, and imitates noise 
of kiss.~\ Doughnuts and peppermints, that's some kiss. 
[Continues to imitate kiss.] Ha! ha! I'll squeal on you. 
I'll tell maw and paw and Sybil. [Mary Ann is de- 
cidedly embarrassed.] 

Peter. You rascal, you took the candy. But say, 
John, if you'll promise not to tell, I'll give you another 
box. 

John. I have had all I want, and I'll tell what nice 
noisy candy kisses Mary Ann gives. [Imitates kiss.] 

Mary Ann. [Starts tozvard John.] I'll give you a 
thrashing. [Discovers John's drum on chair, picks it 
up, and turns to John; she beats the drum while she 
sings : — 

Johnnie, get your drum, get your drum. 
Johnnie, get your drum, get your drum. 

John. Gee, Mary Ann, don't take my drum. If 
you'll give it back, I won't squeal on you, honest I wont. 

Mary Ann. Then promise. 

John. [Crosses himself.] Honest Injun, I promise. 

Mary Ann. [Gives him drum.] Here, take your 
drum and get out quick. 

Mrs. Barrington. [Enters in a very hurried man- 

32 



ner, well gowned for club, goes to table, looks at papers.] 
What, you back, Mary Ann ? Peter, I am ready for my 
paper. 

Peter. [Looks admiringly at Mary Ann, but an- 
swers indifferently.] It's over there on the table. 

Mrs. Barrington. [Looking over papers.] These 
aren't my copied papers. These are only mixed-iiD 
sheets. ' ^ 

Peter. Why, I left the copied papers in a pile on that 
table. 

Mrs. Barrington. Peter, please attend to me. Come 
here and show me the pile, 

Peter. [Goes to table, looks over papers, is sur- 
prised.] They're not here, but I swear I left them right 
here on this spot. 

Mrs. Barrington. Well, you see they're not here 
now. 

Peter. [Handling the sheets.] Couldn't we put 
these together? 

Mrs. Barrington. No, they're not nearly all there. 
Why in the world did I ever trust them to you ? 

Peter. Now you'll think 1 won't be able to take care 
of Mary Ann. 

Mrs. Barrington. A man in love can't be trusted 

with anything. 

Peter. ]Pathetically.] You will let me have Mary— 
Mary Ann. Peter, I won't marry you unless mother 

gets the money, so get busy and look for the papers. 

Let's all look for them. [All took for them except Mrs. 

Barrington, zvho in despair slumps into a chair zveep- 

mg.] 

Mrs. Barrington. Find them tomorrow when it is 
too late. It's after ten o'clock now. Oh, I won't be able 
to ^join the club or tell them about the Hottentots, and 
we'll lose Auntie's money. Oh, dear! It's dreadful! 

Mary Ann. Has there been anybody in the room?. 

Peter. I was here when I heard you singing. 

Mary Ann. Never mind me, Peter. Tell us where 
you left mother's papers. 

33 



Mr. Barrington. [Enters rear door, looks at zvatcJi.] 
What! haven't you gone, Bertha? It's ten fifteen now. 

Mrs. Barrington. \Gocs to Mr. Barrington.] Oh, 
George, it's dreadful ! 

Mr. Barrington. What's dreadful? 

Mrs. Barrington. We won't get Auntie's money. 

Mr. Barrington. Why, what's the matter? Haven't 
you finished your paper yet ? 

Mrs. Barrington. Of course I finished it. 

Mr. Barrington. Then why don't you take it and 
go? 

Mrs. Barrington. Peter left it — 

Mr. Barrington. What on earth was Peter doing 
with your paper ? 

Mrs. Barrington. While I was dressing, Peter fin- 
ished copying it, and when I came down, it was gone. 
[Peter is frightened.] 

Mr. Barrington. \ Angrily. \ Peter, get that paper 
and give it to Mrs. Barrington. 

Peter. [Terrified.] I left it — 

Mr. Barrington. [Goes toward Peter and takes- 
hold of him.] Never mind where you left it. Do you 
hear what I say ? 

Mrs. Barrington. George, don't hurt Peter. He 
isn't to blame ; Fm to blame. 

Mr. Barrington. Of course he's to blame. He lost 
your paper, didn't he ? 

Mrs. Barrington. There wouldn't have been a paper 
to lose if I hadn't told Aunt Mary that I wanted to join 
the club and that you wouldn't let me unless — unless — 
[Mr. Barrington relaxes his hold on Peter.] 

Mr. Barrington. Unless what? Out with it. 

Mrs. Barrington. Unless she made her will that 
way. 

Mary Ann. Bully Tor you, mother! 

Mr. Barrington. Bertha Barrington, you — you 
dared to tell her that ! 

Mrs. Barrington. Pm sorry to offend you, George, 
but I did so want to belong to the club that I asked Aunt 
Mary to put it just as she did— in her will, 

34 



Mr. l^>ARRjN(rroN. ^'oii deceitful woman! You de- 
serve to lose every penny of the $J 00,000. 

Mrs. Barrington. Reallv, dear, it will be terrible if 
we lose that money, but you have criven me permission 
to jom the club, haven't you? 

Mr. Barrington. No— not until vou find your paper 

I John enters, heating his drum and marchinq, indif- 
ferent to the seene:\ 

Mary Ann. John, vou were here. Did vou see 
mother's papers lyings on the table? 

John. I don't care nothino: 'bout old papers. I am 
.G:omg- to catch the Kaiser with mv big boots. 

Mr. Barrington. \Sei::es John by the collar:] 
John, you rascal, stoj) beatin.e: that drum. Did you see 
a ])de of ])apers on the table? 

John. Sure. sure. Paw, those old papers, T know 
where they are. 

Mr. Barr[N(;ton. \ Shaking John.] Where are they^ 
Quick ! 

John. T stuffed them into my boots. [Mrs. Bar- 
rington. Marv Ann and Peter strike different atti- 
tudes m consternation and rush round John, centre 
stage lower. Mr. Barring.ton lands John on the floor. 
Mary Ann sei-es right boot and pulls it off. Peter 
sei-es left boot and pulls it off. Thev grab papers, pass 
them to Mr. Barrington, 7i'ho passes them to Mur,. 
Barrington.] 

All. Boots ! boots ! boots ! 

Mr. Barrington. From Hottentots to Boots! 

John. \Sqnirming.\ Marv Ann, vou're pullin^T my 
leg off. 

Peter. \ Counting sheets; telephone rings '] 4 — 5 

(1—8—10. ■ ' 

Mary y\NN. \Counting sheets; telephone rings — 
stops.~\ 7— 9— 11— Fd like to take your legs off. \fele- 
phone rings again and keeps ringing.] 

Mr. Barrington. Oh ! that telephone ; here. Bertha, 
take your papers and see that you hang on to them th^'s 
time. \Goes to telephone.'] 

Peter. \Counting sheets.] 12 — 13 — 14 — 15. 

35 



Mr. Barrington. Hello — yes — what? 

Mary Ann. [^Counting sheets.] Ki — IT — 18 — 19. 

Mr. Barrington. What's that? [Puts hand behind 
ear; irritable.] Keep quiet — I can't hear while you are 
all talking! 

Mary Ann. [Whispers and looks at Mrs. Barring- 
ton.] 20. 

[Mrs. Barrington puts the papers together and nods 
approval; she starts to rush out, but Mr. Barrington 
zvaves his hand, indieating that she must stop. She 
stops.] 

Mr. Barrington. Gone, no, she is just going. [To 
Mrs, Barrington.] Hold on. Bertha. Yes, yes, I'll 
take the message — the Secretary forgot to notify Mrs. 
Barrington — yes, I get that — candidates for membership 
are not admitted to the business meeting at ten o'clock — 
but are requested to present — to present their papers at 
eleven o'clock — you said eleven — yes, yes, I'll tell her — 

[Curtain.] 



Suincrville Journal Print. 
36 



LIBRARY OF 



CONGRESS 



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